


Immortal Justice

by thesmallbutknowingclown



Series: Immortal Justice Series [1]
Category: The Originals (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Angels & Demons, Alternate Universe - Demon Hunters, Demon Hunters, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-13
Updated: 2020-10-13
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:07:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26984143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesmallbutknowingclown/pseuds/thesmallbutknowingclown
Summary: Abira Lee is no stranger to life-threatening situations, but when an old nemesis arrives on the shores of Lousiana seeking vengeance, she must find a necessary ally in order to stop this reign of terror- or face her demise.
Relationships: Mikael Mikaelson & Original Female Character
Series: Immortal Justice Series [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1969345
Kudos: 1





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is my first time posting my work on AO3, and I am excited to share my works with you! A few sidenotes:
> 
> 1) Given my Christian worldview, I have tried to keep depictions of angels and demons as accurate to the Bible as possible while still taking artistic license.  
> 2) The prologue of this book in particular contains military terminology, and while I am no expert in this field, I have aimed to keep the terms as accurate as possible. Please let me know if I have made an error so that I can correct it in the future!  
> 3) Constructive criticism is always welcome, and you would honestly be doing me a favor by leaving a review!
> 
> I hope you all enjoy it! :)

[Baghdad, Iraq]

[23rd January, 1991]

[First Gulf War/Operation Desert Storm]

[Time: 0500 (5:00 AM)]

The rolling sandy hills surrounding the capital of Iraq undulated under the hot desert breeze, promising what would likely be another hot day; the bright lights and scant traffic from the civilian population down below were just beginning to stir as dawn approached. From the cockpit of the Merlin HC3 I was riding shotgun in, I could just barely see the first streaks of the sun as it peeked over the eastern horizon and I grinned to myself, imagining that I was not shut up in a military helicopter but rather was back at home in Odessa, Texas. That imagery was quickly dashed from my mind as we hit another spot of turbulence, and the pilot, a young lieutenant scarcely in his 30s, nervously squeaked out, "Sorry, General! We keep hitting these damn pockets of turbulence…"

I grinned and shook my head. "It ain't your fault, son. Seems even the wind doesn't wanna cooperate with us today." We were en route to an Army base just outside the city limits of Baghdad following an urgent message that ushered me from Kuwait sent to me by one of my captains. Even though it seemed as though Hussein and his forces were losing rapidly thanks to the pressure the US and our allies were putting on him- "winning," in other words - we still had to maintain battle strategy if we were to see this conflict to its end. Apparently, this captain said his superior had a battle plan he wanted me to see.

Another spot of turbulence almost launched me out of my seat, which would have been a disaster considering I had several important files I had brought with me, and I wasn't in any mood to have to scrape them together off of the metal floor.

If you couldn't tell, I am not a big fan of helicopter rides. Planes? Fine. Helicopters? Uncomfortable as all get out. Didn't help that the ear protection I had to wear pressed into my skull 'till it felt like it'd leave dents.

"And here we are, General!" the lieutenant announced, easing the helicopter into a slower speed. Blinding white lights raked across my vision, so that I had to blink several times to recalibrate my eyes. Gradually, we came into a hover position over the base's landing pad as workers guided us down until we were on terra firma again. I heaved out a deep breath and turned to the lieutenant. "Thanks so much for the ride, lieutenant! Be careful heading back to Kuwait now."

"Will do, General! Be safe yourself!" he responded as I took my ear protection off and exited the helicopter. It roared back to life and just as soon as it had landed, it became little more than an arrangement of lights in the predawn sky. Files in one hand, smoothing out my uniform with the other, I turned and was greeted by the captain who had reached out to me. He gave a hearty salute that I mirrored, dropping into step beside me. "So sorry about the sudden notice, General! But the colonel wanted you here as quickly as possible. He says the plan's a real good one."

"It certainly sounds promisin', I'll tell you that much," I replied. Once we entered the tan colored, sprawling building, he led the way to where the colonel was waiting, down a rather long stretch of hallway that was lined with MPs standing at attention. As we neared the colonel's office, I noticed that one MP in particular had a small, still-bleeding cut on the outside of his right hand, and at once that familiar, torturous feeling roared to life inside of me: hunger. Immediately I ducked my head and willed myself not to attack him and drink his blood, all the while my eye veins forced themselves to the surface of my skin as they turned my eyes a harrowing red. Please, God, not here, not now! I shrieked internally. Thankfully, though, the feeling passed as we moved away from the MP, and I brought my head up just as we arrived at the colonel's door.

The captain knocked on the dark wooden door, and at once a "Come in!" rang out. He nodded at me to go in, and I was greeted with a rather tall, well-muscled man with sandy blond hair and almost grey eyes. Inwardly, I smirked; this was not one of my colonels, but rather my longtime angel friend, Leniel. However, that smirk faded at that thought; if he was here, it would mean there was demonic activity that would need my attention. My stomach knotted at the thought, but I shook it off.

"Thank you for coming here General! So sorry 'bout the short notice," he greeted, then turned to the captain. "I wish to speak with the General alone, Captain McClellan."

Captain McClellan nodded, ducking out of the office and closing the door behind him. The minute he did, the colonel façade faded, and Leniel intoned in a low voice, "Balthiel sent me to check on you, Abira. Have you had success in your intel?"

"Plenty," I stated triumphantly, setting the stack of files on the desk. "And here are the fruits of my labor."

Leniel chuckled in appreciation, praising, "Michael is going to have a field day with this. Good work multitasking between this and your military duties." At once, though, his smile dropped, and he looked up at me again. "Your tour ends in a few days, correct?"

"Given that most of the Iraqi army have tucked tail and ran, yes." I tilted my head and started fidgeting nervously with a thread on my sleeve. "I take it there's been an incident?"

"The strangest I've ever seen. An important figure in the Louisiana government was found dead in New Orleans the other day. No leads except for what looked like an infected canine bite mark on the left side of his neck. Police ruled it as a potential animal attack, but even they've never seen anything like it." Pausing, he straightened and moved to a grey file cabinet in the corner of the room, pulling out a single manila folder and sliding it towards me on the desk. Inside was a glossy photo of the bite in question, certainly looking as nasty as it was described. My stomach churned; I knew exactly what made this kind of bite mark.

"You've been given a new mission," Leniel's voice snapped me out of my reveries. "Michael will have you and Balthiel stationed in New Orleans to investigate a certain family that seems to be connected with incidents like this: the Mikaelsons."

"I remember them. Remember that mission I was on in Chicago a few years back? Well, I was able to slide into their good graces, though it took so many busting down walls that I should've brought a bulldozer."

Leniel grinned, but leaned close and said, "Michael wants you to be very careful in this, Abira. Our forces in Jerusalem have been saying that there have been earthquakes around the Church of the Holy Sephulcre, likely as a result of…his imprisonment."

My blood went cold at that and my throat tightened. "The sooner we start, the better, then."


	2. To Kindred Spirits

[Chicago, Illinois]

[12th March 1922]

[Time: 2400 (Midnight)]

The sound of tearing flesh and the screams of people- undeniably lured into this trash dump- reached my ears as I entered the long-abandoned, sharp-smelling fertilizer factory. Good. I'm finally on target, after months of tracking down this particularly nasty group of possessed young vampires.

I sped onto a balcony overlooking the moon-bathed main factory floor, where the vampires had fed their way through a group of construction workers. With a silent, fluid motion, I pulled the sniper rifle off of its place on my back and slipped into the firing position, keeping the scope fixed onto the one my superiors had identified as the leader.

However, before I even fired a single shot, a blur swept through the group, followed closely by the grotesque sound of multiple necks snapping catching me by surprise.

What just-?

A tall, heavily panting silhouette replaced the lead vampire in my scope. Whoever this jackass was, they'd interrupted my hunt, and now I was several kinds of pissed. With that thought and spite simultaneously tangling in my mind, I fired a shot into their right leg.

"AH!" the newcomer yelled loudly. From the pitch of his voice, I guessed that the newcomer was male, an assumption that was quickly confirmed when he bellowed, "WHOEVER FIRED THAT SHOT, YOU HAVE MADE A GRAVE MISTAKE IN ATTACKING A HYBRID!"

A..hybrid? What was he talking about?

I sped onto the main floor just behind the man, not seeing many of his features given that I was in his shadow. Keeping my gun drawn, I snarled, "Thanks for interrupting my hunt, bastard!" What was I supposed to tell my superiors when I returned to them empty-handed? Sorry, I couldn't bring anything back for observation, some man interrupted my hunt and took my kill?

Suddenly, the man whipped around and pinned me roughly against the wall, his large hand wrapping itself around my throat. A pair of angry dark blue eyes burned into mine as I wriggled desperately in his grasp, growling in a futile attempt to scare him. My gun lay on the ground where I had been previously, and with my upper body pinned by the hand not currently around my throat, I couldn't reach for my knife. Dammit.

"Was it you that fired that shot? Why isn't it healing?" he growled, his rancid breath attacking my nostrils with the smell of booze and iron. Probably fed recently. He tightened his grasp ever so slightly, and my airway began to burn.

"Gee mister, the gun you caused me to drop kinda explains that for you, doesn't it?" I spat back, choosing to ignore the second question as I bit down hard on the space between his index finger and thumb, causing him to grunt in pain again as he released me. I sped back to my gun and aimed it at his head this time, causing him to hesitate, eyeing me with a mixture of scorching hostility, curiosity, and confusion. "Look jackass, you interrupted my hunt and now I'll have to return to my superiors empty-handed!" I paused at this, not taking my gaze off of him for a second. "That shot was an accident, alright? I'm sorry!"

The man's rigid stance relaxed somewhat. "You were after this lot as well?" He tilted his head, eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Why?"

Sighing, I lowered the barrel of the rifle and bolted the safety. "Yes, I've been tracking them for a little over a month. The why...well, it's a bit complicated." 

His stare remained steadfast, and honestly, it was a bit creepy. I elaborated, "They were demonically possessed and have been slaughtering folks from Sacramento to Sioux Falls to Atlanta and to here in Chicago. Large massacres."

The man blinked in surprise. "And you've been tracking them? How should I know you're not one of them?"

"Because I'm not in an animalistic, uncontrollable rage, to begin with," I snapped back, slowly undoing the bolt on the rifle. "How did you even know I was a vampire to begin with? You don't know me. I could be just a regular person for all you care."

He chuckled slightly. "I smelled it on you, love. Though-" he mused, taking a dramatic sniff. "-you don't smell entirely like any vampire I've ever come across. Is that sulfur I smell on you?"

My heart leaped into my throat and I clenched my jaw. Why did that scent have to be so obvious? "I mean, we are in an old fertilizer factory. I'd imagine they used it to manufacture their product."

"Mm. Perhaps." He sauntered closer to me. "In any event, I do apologize for interrupting your hunt sweetheart. However, I have heard that there may be another group wreaking havoc in New York City. How about I help you find them, to make up for ruining this one?"

The sudden offer made me feel uneasy. Sure, having a partner after so many years of hunting alone sounded nice, in theory at least, but this guy seemed to have the mental stability of a twig. Plus, who's to say that he couldn't be sugarcoating his real intentions? He could easily kill me or expose me to the world, endangering me, and my mission. I liked neither scenario and frankly, I wanted to tell him to stay out of my way and mind his own business. Then again, it would take me probably a month or more to track them and go after them on my own, and I still had to bring back a dead one for analysis. I would have to bank on his offer being genuine.

I let out a pent-up sigh. "Fine. But let me make one thing clear," I growled, pushing my finger onto his chest. "You make a single peep to anyone, and I'll shoot you where the Sun don't shine. Kill me, and there won't be a damn place you can go where my superiors can't find you. Understood?"

His eyebrows rose- whether in amusement or surprise, I couldn't be sure- but he nodded and replied "Understood." When I took my finger off of his chest and started to make my exit out of the factory before the group awoke again, he asked, "What's your name?"

I whirled around, my back to the exit. "Abira." Giving my full name would not be of much use here, I reasoned.

He caught up to me and stuck out his hand. "Call me Klaus. And I promise not to expose or kill you. To be honest," he started, looking down at his shiny black shoes, "I'm on the run from someone myself."

Here's to kindred spirits, then.


End file.
